The Olive Branch
by S. Faith
Summary: Bringing a child into the world can really refocus your priorities and perceptions. How did Daniel come to be both Billy's and Mabel's godfather?
1. Chapter 1

**The Olive Branch**

By S. Faith, © 2014

Words: 8,299  
><span>Rating<span>: T / PG-13  
><span>Summary<span>: Bringing a child into the world can really refocus your priorities and perceptions.  
><span>Disclaimer<span>: Not my stuff.  
><span>Notes<span>: How did Daniel come to be both Billy's and Mabel's godfather?  
>Think of this as a preface to <em>If Only…<em>, because thinking about the alternative is too sad.

Sorry I've been away. I did NaNoWriMo, and won. :D

* * *

><p><strong>Part 1<strong>

_February 2006_

"I came as soon as I got word. Well, checked my mobile, anyway."

These words were not surprising in and of themselves, but rather, were surprising coming from the man who spoke them. He furrowed his brow. What was this man doing at the hospital, at the birth of her first child? How had he learned where they were?

But there in the waiting area, having just risen to his feet from a seat next to his wife's friends, his parents and hers, was the one man he least expected to see. "Daniel," he said abruptly in his disbelief.

"Mark," said Daniel, genuine distress on his face. "How is she?"

"She's doing fine," he said, "aside from the continued labour. She's exhausted. Trying to rest. Thought I'd come let you know, get some coffee. Mother, Father—" He turned to his parents. "Why don't you go back to the house, get some rest? This must be awfully tiring for you."

"More so for you, Mark," said his mother, Elaine. "Any estimate as to when they might actually bring her into the delivery room?"

It had only—_only!_—been eight hours so far. "Unsure," he said wearily. "Much longer and they may do a C-section. She's fighting it." He chuckled. "She doesn't want the scar." He heard the friends offer a chuckle, too.

"We'll stay, then," said Elaine, then boldly added, "I predict a grandson before nightfall."

He could only hope. Mark sighed then, ran a hand down over his face. It may have only been just after noon, but the day had already been a long one… and he wasn't even the one racked by painful labour. "I should get that coffee, go back and sit with her. As soon as I know anything more, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Mark—know we're cheering for you out here," said Jude, who along with Tom and Talitha, her friend from her _Sit Up Britain_ days, had been sitting vigil since shortly after nine; his parents had arrived about an hour later. Her parents unfortunately could not make it, through no fault of their own; they would bring the baby to the Joneses as soon as possible…

"I'll come with you," said Daniel unexpectedly; Mark had almost forgotten he was even there. Curiously, Talitha gave what could best be described as a meaningful look to Daniel as Daniel strode forward. What precisely was going on here?

"All right," said Mark, too taken aback and too tired to brook resistance.

Together they walked out of the waiting area, to the lift, pressing the down button to call it; Mark shoved his hands down into his (assuredly disreputable) trouser pockets, letting out a long breath. He didn't know what Daniel was doing here, but he didn't have the strength to dredge up the old feud. "I don't think a long labour is abnormal for a first child," he said absently to fill the silence, "but she is a bit older than…" Mark trailed off. "Just wish there were more I could do."

"She's also a bit more stubborn. No scar means no scar," quipped Daniel—humour always being his go-to response—before Daniel's tone went serious again. "Look—you're doing all you can until show time. Still, I feel anxious enough… I can't imagine how you're feeling."

"Thanks," Mark said, as the lift arrived.

They arrived to the in-hospital Costa, where Daniel ordered a pair of coffees and paid before Mark could speak out in protest. After handing a cup to Mark, Daniel offered an awkward smile, then said, "You're probably wondering why I'm here."

"It's not at the top of my list of concerns," said Mark, "but yes, I was wondering. Wondering how you knew to come. _Where_ to come." He took a sip of the hot beverage. "Thanks for this."

"My pleasure," Daniel said automatically. They began walking back towards the lift; Mark didn't want to be away any longer than necessary. "Bridget texted that she'd gone into labour. Didn't see it right away because I can't be arsed, usually, to check my text messages. Rang up Talitha wondering where to go, and she let me know."

"Right," Mark said. He knew that his wife and Daniel were in sporadic contact, so learning she'd included him in her mass text as labour began didn't come as a surprise. Mark had, after all, not been insecure enough to be jealous of this contact in some time; he was confident in the strength of their marriage, of her love for him… even if he had been (he hated to admit this, even to himself) a bit envious of the friendship she and Daniel shared. He thought wistfully of the good times he and Daniel had had together; he had, he was reluctant to admit, missed Daniel's clever, quick wit.

The lift arrived; they stepped inside, alone in the lift again. Mark pressed the correct button for her floor.

"So that's the how and the where," Mark continued. "What about the why?"

"I should think that was obvious," Daniel said quietly, staring at his coffee. "Obviously, I care about her—and before you say a thing, yes, I know, I don't stand a chance with her anymore, and I accept that, especially with a baby imminent. I really do, Mark. But I also thought it was high time you realise I… fuck. I care about you, too."

Daniel looked up to meet Mark's gaze just as the lift chime dinged and the doors parted open.

"As a _friend_," Daniel added as they strode out. "I mean, that's obvious, too, I should think. Look." He turned back to face Mark, cleared his throat, and as he spoke in a quiet voice, his demeanour went serious. "I'm sorry. I don't think I can say ever express how sorry I am for… what happened with _her_. I regret utterly what I did—it was without a doubt not worth the price I paid."

Mark was stunned to hear what he realised he had longed to hear for years. In response he began to chuckle; he couldn't help himself. "Right."

"What's so bloody funny?" Daniel asked, consternation written across his face, which spoke of the sincerity of his words.

"It's relief," said Mark simply. "I accept the apology without reservation. To be perfectly honest, I've had enough of the whole rivalry thing. I've got bigger, more important things to focus attention on. Top of the list, a baby on the way; as good a clean slate as we're likely to get."

It was Daniel's turn to look relieved, yet surprised.

"After all," continued Mark, "there is nothing quite like having a child on the way to remind you of the best parts of your own childhood."

At this, at the realisation of what Mark was saying, Daniel smiled. "You should, um, get in there with your wife," he said, clearing his throat, gesturing in the vague direction of the hospital rooms.

"Right," said Mark. "Thanks again for the coffee. I'll report back to you all soon."

He swung down the hallway and into her room in which she was awaiting delivery, and what greeted him as he entered caused him to nearly drop that newly acquired coffee. Bridget, his darling wife, was crumpled over in pain, knuckles white in grasping the sheets, and cursing like a sailor, spewing forth a string of profanities unlike any he had heard from her before. _Or from anyone else, for that matter_, he thought.

"Bridget!" he said, setting the cup down, racing to her side. She clamped on his hand with hers; he fought not to cry out or wince in pain, as what he was experiencing likely paled in comparison to the labour pains. "Should I ring for help?" he asked.

The response she offered was unintelligible; he erred on the side of caution and pressed the call button anyway. Within short order, a nurse came in, asked a few questions, timed contractions on her watch, then hurried out again, returning presently with the doctor.

"Well, Mr Darcy, it looks like we're on," said the doctor, turning, offering a bit of a grin. "Are you going in to coach?"

It took him a moment to understand what she meant and stupidly he began to nod.

"Go with the nurse; she'll help you get scrubbed up."

A few minutes later, with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow and thoroughly washed hands and arms, he was dressed in a protective gown and cap, and was being escorted to the delivery room.

…

The coffee was quite cold when next he returned to the room, but he wagered it was well worth it.

Once in the delivery room, the classes they had done, the breathing coaching, had kicked in immediately, and he sat by her side the entire time, holding her hand, coaching her as she breathed and pushed—and then she shouted at him to "Shut up, already!"—for what felt like far too long, but he took comfort in the fact that the medical professionals weren't concerned. Hearing the wail of his child, seeing the baby for the first time, was a moment he would never forget.

"Here he is," said a nurse, the doctor, Mark wasn't sure; he saw only the swaddled child being brought towards them, then being placed against her chest as she took him in her arms. Tears filled his eyes as they streamed down her cheeks. He couldn't find the words, instead only bending closer to her to kiss her on the top of her head.

"He's perfect," she murmured. "Little William Mark."

The name had, of course, been chosen well in advance. When they'd learned the baby was a boy, the discussions on what to name him had begun almost immediately. Mark had been adamant that he didn't want his son to be Mark Junior, as his own father had not wanted his son to be a Junior.

"William," he echoed, looking down to the baby. His heart swelled with love.

They obviously could not remain in the delivery room for very long, but the nurses allowed a moment more of bonding before one instructed him that they needed to take her to the room, and that he could meet her and the baby there presently.

Mark took the opportunity to divest himself of the cap and the gown, and return to the waiting room to share the good news.

The concern he saw on all of their faces disappeared in an instant when they in turn saw him. "Sorry to be gone so long," he said with a broad grin, "but I got back to the room at the just right time."

As if they were a single unit, everyone rose to offer congratulations, though stepped aside allowed Mark's parents to be the first to embrace their son. Then one hug blended into another, more words of congratulations found his ear; he was appreciative of them all. He offered to escort his parents to Bridget's room for a visit, to meet their grandson for the very first time.

As they held the new-born and cooed over him, Mark drew out his mobile phone and called Pam Jones to deliver the good news to her.

"Oh, Mark," she said tearfully. "What wonderful news. Colin will be thrilled. Is Bridget all right? Is she available to talk?"

He glanced to her, and she met his gaze. "She's here. My mother and father are in with us visiting." She held out her hand, asking silently for the mobile, and he handed it over.

"Hello, Mum," she said, tears flooding her eyes again. "I'm fine, the baby's fine… how's Dad? How are you?" A long pause; her lower lip was quivering. "Yes, of course we'll bring him up to see you as soon as we can." Another pause, during which she took a deep breath and pulled herself together, signing off in order to disconnect the call. Without a word to him, she handed back the phone.

Elaine was holding the baby and her concern was equally evident. Mark hardly needed to ask what was the matter; her father, in hospital with late-stage lung cancer, clearly was not doing well. Mark sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward and took her into his arms. He kissed her temple.

"We'll go as soon as possible," he murmured. He could feel her nod.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Mark," said Elaine gently, "why don't we go, let a couple of your friends come in? I'm sure their smiling faces would be a good reminder of how much there is to celebrate today."

Mark drew away, then stood again, holding out his arms for the baby. "I think that sounds like a fine idea."

Mark's parents left. Mark expected another pair of individuals to turn up a few minutes later, but instead all of them came at once; not just Jude, Tom, Talitha, and Daniel, but Magda and Jeremy, too.

"We decided to storm the barricades," said Daniel. "None of us wanted to wait to be second." His eyes connected to Mark, to the baby in his arms, and he could not disguise the rise of emotion in him, the welling of tears in his eyes. "Oh. Look at that." Daniel strode closer, and as he did, Mark could see out of the corner of his eye the look of confusion pass over Bridget's face. "Pleased to meet you, little fella—" He turned to Mark. "What's his name, anyway?"

"William Mark," he said.

Daniel grinned. "William," he repeated. "Mmm. That seems so formal. 'William'. Rather looks more like a 'Billy' to me."

Bridget chuckled. "He's only a couple of hours old."

"That hardly matters," he said. "He's branded for life."

"So what sort of high-grade, Class-A drugs did they give me, anyway," began Bridget, "that I'm imagining this scene instead of you two brawling in the hallway?"

They all began to chuckle, and then Mark explained simply that they'd patched things up. "The miracle of childbirth," added Daniel.

"Indeed," she said wearily. "Who knew all I'd have to do was pop out a baby?"

…

Little William—or Billy as it seemed clear he was destined to be called—was held and kissed by the friends in turn before the nurse came in. Despite Daniel's best efforts at flattery and flirtation, the nurse would not be moved, so they each took their time to say goodbye for now. Mark's parents came in one last time briefly to say goodnight before they left to stay in the Holland Park house.

"We'll get everything ready anticipating your arrival home," said Elaine with a smile. "Not that there's a lot of work to do there."

With a kiss and a hug they were left alone with their new-born, who was sleeping. "Maybe should we put him in the crib?" Bridget asked.

Mark realised he wasn't sure; it was a silly amount of uncertainty for such a trivial thing, but he knew it served to set the tone in general for parenthood: educated guesses, and do the best you could. "Yes, that should be fine," he said with an air of authority.

"You don't really know either, do you?" she said; she sounded more relieved than anything at this epiphany.

He rose and took the baby, then placed him into the little crib before he returned to sit on the bed. "What a day," he said, taking her hand.

She suddenly looked exhausted as she smiled wanly and nodded. "I'm glad you're staying with me," she said, then amended, "with us."

The room provided a recliner chair on which partners could sleep, with blankets and all; he supposed he understood the necessity, though he would have loved to sleep beside her, holding her in his arms to comfort her after the punishing process of labour and delivery.

There was always tomorrow, he reasoned.

"I would say that I don't know how I'll sleep knowing that the baby's there and could need me any time," Bridget said, then yawned. "But, well. I don't think sleeping will be a problem after all."

"I'm in awe, to be honest," he said. "Of you, of women in general. To carry then give birth—an incredibly brave and terrifying thing to do."

"With an excellent payoff." She pushed herself upright with a bit of a groan.

"You sure you should be getting up?"

"I can't have you go to the loo for me," she said, "or wash my face and clean my teeth."

"But…" he began, not sure how to put it delicately; he knew stitches were often involved in a natural birth.

She smiled. "We'll be going home tomorrow with a new-born, Mark. I'm going to eventually have to get up."

He conceded the point, though the additional groan as she got to her feet meant he shadowed her on the walk to the bathroom just a few feet away, waited just outside the door in case she needed help.

When she was finished, she returned to bed and he helped her to get settled. "Anything you want?" he asked.

"I just realised I'm hungry," she said. "What time is it, anyway?"

He glanced to his watch. It felt like it should have been midnight, but in actual fact it was not even seven in the evening; he told her the time. "Shall I enquire about dinner from a nurse, or maybe should I pop out and get you something light from downstairs? Maybe a salad, or—"

She snorted a little laugh, then cringed a bit as if the laugh had hurt, which he suspected it did. "Mark, I could eat a cow right now. How about a Big Mac? Fries?"

He agreed; he considered for a moment getting something healthier, but ultimately decided that after the day she'd had, she deserved to eat whatever she wanted. "We're not making a habit of this, though," he added sternly.

"No, no, of course not," she said quickly. "You're a love."

"I do my best," he said, ducking down to peck her lips.

When he returned with their dinner, as well as some hot chocolates—made with full fat milk for a special treat—from the Costa in the hospital, she had gone to sleep and a nurse was in attending the baby. The nurse gave Mark a knowing look (and a somewhat disapproving glance at the McDonald's bag), finished marking up the chart, then left them again. The smell of the food caused her to stir, then wake.

"Ohhh, my hero," she said, sitting up a little too quickly at first and cringing. She then reached for the bag greedily, tearing into it.

"That is _our_ dinner, darling," he reminded, setting down a cocoa on her bedside tray.

She chuckled, then reached in to pull out the requested Big Mac and order of fries, then handed the bag over to Mark for his own food. He drew out his dinner, then handed a good portion of his own fries to her, which earned him a loving smile. Not unexpectedly, she tore into her burger and took a large, ravenous bite from it. Within a few scarce minutes, she was eating up the last of her fries with a satisfied smile.

"I suppose you needed that," he said, with half a burger left to eat.

"You're damned right I did," she said, lying back on the bed, sighing happily, giving no indication of the subject change about to occur: "So I'm still struggling to understand the night and day change. You and Daniel. Are things really all right now? What has changed?"

"Nothing, and everything," he said.

"What does that mean? Did you talk about the past, about your first wife… hash things out?"

"No," he said.

"Then how are things resolved?"

"We both realised it's not important now," he said. "You and William are. I don't have it in me to bear the weight of a pointless grudge, and… I know Daniel's not going to try to make me jealous about you. Not now."

She looked confused, even sounded a bit exasperated as she asked, "Not that I'm _complaining_ that this feud is over, but how can you be so certain about this?"

"Daniel's history," he said. "His own parents' marriage was broken up by an affair. He knows what it did to him, and he once vowed never to do that to another child. I believe him."

Bridget looked stunned. "I had no idea," she said at last.

"He doesn't talk about it much."

"I meant that you still felt jealous about me with Daniel," she said, then grinned. "Ridiculous that you would ever feel jealous."

At that he had to smile in return; rationally, he had always known this to be true, that Bridget was and would always be faithful to him, but he could not so easily forget that his first marriage—such as it was—had been ruined by Daniel. Perhaps only now, knowing what he had known for years about Daniel and his unusual moral compass, could the subconscious fears be allayed.

After the cocoas were gone she yawned again. He suspected she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, so he took his cue and pardoned himself for the loo to change into the trackie bottoms and tee-shirt he'd brought to sleep in. Not that he had qualms changing in front of his wife, but with the way hospital staff came and went from the rooms he didn't want to give a stranger that kind of surprise.

After he returned, she appeared to already be sleeping. He did not want to wake her, so he went to the chair preparing to snuggle up with the blankets when she spoke up. "Come in bed with me?"

He knew he was not supposed to, but he could not resist when her voice spoke of how tired and how in need of a good long cuddle she was, so he tossed those blankets aside and went over to the bed. She scooted to one side, her preferred side, and he slipped in beside her, spooning up to her back, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

"Good night," he murmured, kissing her hair just above her ear.

She sighed. "Night."

He could tell she fell off to deep sleep nearly at once; he on the other hand was a bit more dozy, just lying there in the relative silence with his eyes closed, thinking about the day's events, when he heard the door open and a loud clucking sound from the attending nurse. He opened his eyes.

"You're not supposed to be in the bed, sir," she said sternly.

"I know," he said. "But when a new mother has such a simple request…"

She pursed her lips but he detected a bit of a smile; she checked the baby, filled in the chart, then retreated without another word.

Shortly after, he, too, fell to sleep and stayed that way for several hours; evidently the nurse had put a note in the chart, for there was no further commentary when William began to cry during another nurse check-in. A different nurse this time, who advised gently it was time for feeding. "Better had get used to it," she said.

As Bridget woke to feed the baby, as he laid there beside her, holding them in his embrace, it struck him fully that he finally had achieved what he'd wanted for so long now: he was a father. His life would never be the same; the thrill of this realisation rushed through him. Better had get used to it, indeed.

…

After an otherwise uneventful night and morning in hospital, the staff began to process their discharge so that they would be at home before dinner. Mark called his parents to advise, and they promised to have a nice meal waiting.

In the meantime, however, they received a visitor. Daniel returned with a plush animal, a cartoonish horse, and a bright grin on his face. "I thought I'd catch you before you went home," he said, "though I do realise this makes one more thing to tote back with you."

"So cute," said Bridget, taking hold of it, snuggling it a bit. "His first present, even if it is currently larger than he is."

"I was starting to lose hope I'd ever give this to a kid of yours, Darce," said Daniel, which took Mark slightly aback; he had never considered that Daniel might have been waiting for the opportunity to offer an olive branch in such a way that he knew Mark would accept it. "Despairing I'd ever get a chance to be a godfather, truth be told."

Mark heard Bridget lightly chuckle. "You're very optimistic," she teased.

"Of course," Daniel said. "Billy needs _someone_ around to guide him through the intricacies of seduction one day."

At this she burst out with a louder-than-intended laugh. Fortunately, the baby did not awaken.

Mark could say only, "That's exactly what I was afraid you might say." But he smiled all the same. Every child, he supposed, needed to have a crazy uncle, and if his and Bridget's own respective brothers were going to persist in living abroad, then Daniel would do nicely.

"So how much longer before you're sprung from this place?" Daniel asked. "Have you got a lift home?"

Mark nodded, thinking of the vehicle in the car park with the baby seat already firmly in place (something Mark had done a week before her due date).

"Good, good," he said. "And have you got something set up for dinner?"

"My parents—" began Mark.

"Yes, of course, your parents," said Daniel. "Well, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ring me up."

"Duly noted," said Mark.

"You're welcome to drop by anytime, Daniel," said Bridget, who, like Mark, seemed to sense he was eager to make up for lost time by being involved with their family.

"Don't want to be a pest," Daniel said.

"We'll let you know if you are," Bridget admonished playfully. Mark could only think again what a wonderful mum she was going to be to their son; he couldn't wait to see William grow and flourish under her care.

"I don't doubt that for a moment, Mummy," said Daniel.

At one time, a joke like this might have really rubbed Mark the wrong way, but Mark realised with clarity that it didn't bother him at all. In fact, he could only smile.

"Best be off, then," Daniel said; he stretched a hand out to Mark to shake, meeting his eye briefly. Mark nodded. Daniel bent to kiss Bridget on the forehead, then went to fondly stroke the new-born's soft little cheek.

After his departure, Mark looked to his wife, who was smiling. "I like this truce thing," she said. "Very much."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Olive Branch**

By S. Faith, © 2014

Words: 8,299  
><span>Rating<span>: T / PG-13  
>Summary, Disclaimer, Notes: See Part 1.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Part 2<strong>

_Late 2006 - Early 2007_

William—or, as it seemed he was destined to be called, Billy—did not want for gifts of clothes or toys, but it seemed that the ones that Daniel brought were the ones the baby liked the best: he snuggled up to the horse, cried when the bizarre Puffle toy was out of his sight. Mark for one appreciated the additional male role model in his son's life; they had taken the boy to meet his grandfather, Bridget's father, and it would turn out to be the one and only time they would meet before Colin's health would decline even more rapidly than expected. He died shortly thereafter.

"It was almost like he was hanging on to say hello to the baby before…" Bridget said tearfully, trailing off before burying her face into Mark's shirt and sobbing. He held her and consoled her best he could. When she then asked if they could stay with her mother to help her sort things out, he could only say yes. To be surrounded by family on such an occasion was a non-negotiable given. He would take whatever time was needed, and could be of valuable assistance handling legal issues, while Bridget could help sort through personal items. They both thought that the baby, little Billy, could serve as a pleasant distraction for Pam Jones, which turned out to be exactly the case.

"My little ray of sunshine," she'd coo to him, rocking him in her arms, a rare smile finding her face.

Daniel made the trip to pay his respects at the memorial service, which touched them deeply. Pam seemed surprised to see one of Bridget's exes turn up, didn't seem to know a thing about Daniel's darker history with Mark, for which he was grateful. His own parents, however, seemed taken aback; he had to assure them that what was past was past, and they were friends once again. He also explained why—the promise made with a child involved—to put their minds at ease, which seemed to work.

Within four months of Colin Jones' passing, a heart attack took Geoffrey Alconbury; instead of Pam and Una wallowing in their grief, however, they both decided to sell their respective houses. In the autumn, they moved into an upscale retirement community called St Oswald's House.

"Don't call it that, though," said Bridget with a grin.

"But that's precisely what it is," Mark replied, confused. "Though with a bistro, a restaurant, a coffee bar, large well-manicured grounds… it sounds amazing. Are you sure _we_ don't qualify to live there?"

"I doubt it," she replied with a chuckle, moving the now seven-month-old from one arm to another. "Not exactly child care facilities on site."

…

_April 2007_

After such a rollercoaster year, Mark thought that once the baby was a bit older, he could take Bridget out for the evening, perhaps even overnight, away from the house. Just after Billy's first birthday, he proposed this idea to her; she looked aghast.

"Leave the baby overnight? Are you mad?"

Mark couldn't help laughing. "I'm not mad. We have plenty of resources who are perfectly capable of minding him for an evening."

"What about feeding? What if something goes wrong?"

"You have the pump," he said; she shuddered. "You have a mobile phone. We won't go far."

With that, she gave her assent, and he promised to arrange it all so she wouldn't have to worry about it. As it turned out, however, finding someone to watch the baby proved the most difficult thing to get settled. Only one person was available, and he was sure that Bridget would not approve.

"Done and dusted," Mark said casually. "We go away next weekend."

"Weekend?"

"Well, Saturday and Sunday."

"Ah," said Bridget. "To where?"

"A little cottage in Cambridgeshire."

"Oooh!" she said, nearly squealing. But then her enthusiasm faded quickly. "And who's going to watch over Billy?"

He smiled at the use of a nickname they'd never even considered before his birth, given who would be tending to Billy. "Daniel."

"Daniel… who?"

"Cleaver."

She stared, agape. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm not," said Mark.

"I have grown to love 'Uncle Daniel', Mark, but he has no experience with babies."

Mark laughed lightly. "He promises he has been reading childcare books. Beside—we hardly had any experience with babies, either."

"Speak for yourself," Bridget said with a little smirk—how could he have forgotten about Magda's brood?—before asking, "Does Daniel also promise not to have a girl over?"

"He does, yes."

She pursed her lips; clearly she was warring internally, the desire to remain with her baby against the desire for a much-needed mini-break. At last, she said, "Fine. That's fine. But he should come over Friday night and do a trial run just to make sure he's not going to drop him or give him Fosters to drink or whatever."

Mark smiled. "I think that's fair enough. The least we can do, then, is to give him dinner."

To Mark's delight and Bridget's surprise, Daniel's night of shadowed babysitting was a wild success. Billy seemed to adore his godfather, though Daniel had always been very charming, so this was not a surprise. The shared love for the boy had really helped to strengthen the re-forged friendship between Mark and Daniel, and this evening only served to underline this fact.

Once Daniel had left for the evening, he asked her directly, and her answer, accompanied by a broad smile, was, "Pleasantly surprised."

_May 2007_

"You. Me. Match of the century."

Mark blinked a few times before he realised who was calling and to what it pertained. Daniel. Clearly about football.

"I have acquired tickets to the match featuring our arch enemies. It will be the defining experience of your lifetime."

"I would beg to differ," Mark said, thinking of the day Billy was born, of his wedding day. "Tickets. How on earth did you get tickets?"

"Deviant sexual favours," Daniel said jauntily in such a way that Mark was not sure if he was kidding, or not. "You're coming," added Daniel. It was not a question so much as a command.

"I'll talk to Bridget," said Mark.

"She wouldn't deny you this," Daniel said confidently.

When Mark asked her later, she only furrowed her brows. "Just you and Daniel?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"And when is it?"

"Two nights from now," he said.

"Well," she said. "You're not making me go, so I'm happy. It'll be a Billy-and-me day. I'm feeling a bit under the weather, anyway."

"You're sure it's all right?"

"Go," she said with a smile. "Have fun. Really."

So go he did; as the evening passed, the years slipped away, and he and Daniel felt like Cambridge boys again. Drinking, carousing, good-natured teasing between the two friends. They even got into a little bit of a scuffle near the end of the match, them against the world, resulting in a scratched chin and a torn shirt collar.

They'd had the time of their lives, indeed, even if Mark's club had not won the match; Daniel hadn't even gloated over his club's win in the pub afterwards.

"I'll give him mine," Daniel said over his bitter, "and you give him yours, and whichever he picks… you'll have to abide."

"As will you," said Mark.

"I have confidence in the lad," Daniel blustered. "Shall we shake on it?" He held out his hand, and the men shook.

When he arrived home he felt euphoric; not even the look of concern on Bridget's face as she wiped something from his face could not deter it.

"I take it that you two had a good evening?" she asked; he nodded. Then she noticed the carrier bag. "What have you there?"

"'S for Billy," he said, slurring a bit. He held up the bag. "Team scarves. Billy gets to pick his team."

Bridget did not need to ask why this was so important. "Ah. And if Billy picks Daniel's?"

"A burden I shall have to bear," he said with a grin. Since Billy was sleeping already, the big choice would have to wait until the next day.

Then Bridget asked, "And what happened to you? A fight?"

"A bit," Mark said.

She pursed her lips.

"It wasn't serious," he added.

"Yes, it's perfectly normal to have your friend beat you up."

"Didn't fight with Daniel," he said.

At this she laughed. "Ah, a bust up with a bunch of strangers is _much_ better."

He'd thought she might be cross or upset at the fact they'd been in a fight, but as the days drew on she would only look at him and smirk, revealing her amusement more than anything. "I was actually worried, there, that you might really have had a fight," she confessed. "That the friendship was off again."

"Nope," he said, smiling in return. He was glad for the renewed, strengthened friendship.

…

"Need a favour."

"Anything."

Mark glanced over to where his wife and son were playing together. "Can you drop by and watch Billy while I take Bridget to the doctor's?"

Daniel did not reply right away. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, fine, just that she's not been feeling well for days, and I'm insisting. But I don't want to bring Billy, too."

"Doctor's offices, foul places. Havens for illness," Daniel quipped. "It's a nice day. I can take him down to the park."

It was a beautiful day, and Billy did seem to love being out of doors. "If you could come over straight away, then…"

"Be there ASAP."

Daniel was as good as his word; Bridget didn't have the time to fret about the impromptu park visit, just helped to pack a bag and got them on their way.

The doctor's visit was an enlightening though utterly baffling one; Mark was still distracted when they returned home to find Billy napping and Daniel sipping a beer.

"Say, what's…" Daniel began. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," he said.

"Mm-hmm," she murmured, clearly also still stunned by the test results.

"I don't like the sound of this," he said, concerned. "Now, come on, tell your old Uncle Daniel."

Mark snapped to attention. "Pregnant," he said. "She's pregnant." As he said it he felt a swell of happiness rush through him. Deep down, he knew she was happy too, but as perplexed as he was.

"I don't understand how this happened," she said, echoing his thoughts.

"Well, Jones, you see, when a man and a woman love each other…" Daniel began as a tease, then smiled.

Her eyes flashed up. "I don't mean to sound like I'm unhappy, because I'm not," she said, then smiled too. "Oh, God. I sound disappointed. I'm not. I'm the opposite of disappointed!" she said. "It's just…"

"I had a feeling," he said. "I'm very pleased for you both."

She went on: "All that difficulty in conceiving Billy… I'm forty-five, for God's sake. It shouldn't have been _easier_ now I'm older."

"This is what happens," said Daniel with a wink, "when you have an unsupervised minibreak all on your own."

Mark looked to her just as she looked to him. They'd had a wonderful (and unrestrained) night reconnecting as a couple the month before; could that really have been when it had happened?

"You and Billy had a good afternoon?" Mark asked abruptly.

"Fantastic," he said. "He was an angel. And the most amazing thing happened."

Thinking Daniel was going to name some first that they had previously not considered, Mark asked, "What?"

"Six phone numbers," he said, "without even trying."

Bridget brought her brows together, looking increasingly annoyed. To head off the impending tirade about using her son to pick up women, Daniel continued.

"I swear it was totally unintentional. I hadn't even thought of it. But there we were, and one by one they came for a chat, and then came the offer…"

Mark couldn't help himself; he smiled, and then he began to laugh. He wasn't sure Daniel really hadn't considered employing Billy in this way, but it amused him all the same.

"Just think," Daniel said. "If the next one's a girl, I'll be set up for life!"

…

Fifty-two.

That's how old he was turning that year, that September, and how old he would be when his second child was born. He had never felt much differently inside than he always had. Until now, until realising he was going to be an old man when his kids were teens. That he was practically an old man already.

"What's wrong with you, Darce?" asked Daniel, for Mark had had the unfortunate luck of having this epiphany while in his friend's company. While drinking a bitter, after a match. So Mark explained.

"But you're not old," Daniel said. "We're not old."

"Daniel, I hate to say it, but we are. Or at least we're getting there."

"Oh, God," said Daniel. "Perish the thought. Girls thinking I'm an old perv… what a fucking depressing thought."

"Promise me something," Mark said; he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol talking, not that he was all that pissed, but the words came tumbling out all the same. "Promise me that you'll look out for them if anything ever happens to me."

Daniel made a dismissive sound. "Nothing's going to happen to you," said Daniel. "Stop being so bloody dramatic."

"Promise."

"I'll promise," said Daniel, "on the condition that you'll stop this nonsense."

Mark smiled, the sudden panic subsiding in an instant. "Nonsense stopped."

"Good," said Daniel. "Drama queen."

Mark laughed.

…

_Autumn 2007_

The second child was all too noticeable now, protruding quite suddenly, it seemed, from the front of Bridget's cardigan. Billy had taken to sitting beside her with his hand on her abdomen. At eighteen months of age, Billy was old enough to be curious about what was happening with his mum's stomach.

"There's a baby in there," Mark explained. Billy looked on, wide-eyed.

"How?" he asked. Then he looked horrified. "Did Mummy eat a baby?"

At this they both stifled a laugh. "No, darling," said Bridget. "Babies come from mummies. It's the way of things."

Mark had never seen a child look so sceptical in his life.

Mark pointed to the bump in the belly. "In here, right now, is your baby sister."

It was, in fact, a girl; the most recent sonogram showed them as much. "Good," Bridget had joked; "Now we'll have one of each and we can quit."

"Name?" Billy asked.

"We don't know that yet," Mark said.

"She didn't tell you?"

Mark chuckled. "Not yet, no."

They were beyond pleased with Billy's developmental progress, but Mark had, almost as a joke, taken to speaking to his unborn daughter in Greek and Latin. "To give her more of a heads-up," he had explained; she had looked dubious, but did not object to indulging himself in this way.

"_Omnis princeps adorat_," he said softly to Bridget's belly as she dozed, telling his little girl that everyone adored the princess. "_Est genus_…" She was kind. "_Sapiens_…" Wise. "_Amabilis…_." Lovable.

Bridget stirred. "Wha?" she asked drowsily. "What are you saying? 'A Mabel is' something?"

At this he began to laugh; was his pronunciation that rusty? "No, darling. More Latin," he said. "'Mabel'? How did you get 'Mabel' out of that?"

"I'm sleepy," she said with a pout.

From that point forward, they joked and called the bulge in her tummy 'Mabel', but the more Mark thought about it, he more he loved the idea of honouring his little girl with a name that proclaimed her worthy of love. She may not have been a planned child, but she was a welcome one, all the same.

"I want to call our daughter Mabel," Mark said, on another such night snuggled together on the couch, shortly after Billy had been put to bed.

"In honour of your terrible Latin?" she joked.

"I'm serious," he said. "And it's _not_ terrible."

She leaned to kiss the tip of his nose. "So, then… why?"

"It represents some of the values I hope to see in her," he said. "Lovable. Friendly. Dear… just like her mother." This garnered him a small smile. "Plus, it's unique without being outrageously over the top." He thought of some of the babies in Billy's part-time nursery, parents trying a little too hard to have their child stand out for all the wrong reasons.

"It's really hard to argue with your logic, Mark," she said. "Always has been." She sighed. "I don't know; I'd hoped to go full-on literary. You know, 'Amaranta' or 'Perdita' or…" At his look she allowed her smile to broaden. "Kidding. I love it, and I love the association it brings. Brings to mind you speaking Latin to my gut. Treasured memories."

When they told Daniel of the choice, he joked at first—"What, not Danielle? I'm wounded"—but then agreed it was a very nice name indeed. "The girls I meet at the park will love it."

…

_January 2008_

"Mark. We need to go now."

He looked up, saw her standing there with her hand on her stomach, and knew instantly what she meant. They'd been through this once before, and knew by the urgency in her voice that this was no dress rehearsal; it was show time.

"Right."

"I've got the bag."

"Right," he said again. "I'll ring up the nursery to let them know about the change in Billy's pickup, then ring up Daniel…"

"Let's actually get to the hospital first," she said, understandably cross, "and you can figure out the details then."

He ended up using the hands-free phone option on the way there. "Daniel."

"Mark."

"She's in labour," he said.

"Ahh," he said. "Need driving?"

"No," Bridget piped in. "On the way."

"Right," said Daniel. "What do you need me to do first? Make calls? Get Billy?"

Daniel of course had already been consulted with regards to Billy and his nursery care, as had the nursery.

"Get Billy," said Bridget, surprising Mark; they had only just done the school run and his morning at the nursery had barely begun. "I want him to be there to meet his little sister, first thing."

"I'll take care of it all," he said. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll make all the calls. I'm your birth PR person. You just do the hard part, Jones."

She chuckled, which segued into what must have been a particularly strong labour pain, and she cried out in agony.

With the hospital just around the corner, Mark said, "Signing off for now. See you later."

He rang off the call just as he pulled round in front of the hospital. From there it was a bit of a blur. Everything certainly moved faster than with Billy's birth, and he didn't spend a moment in the waiting area before he was being led to wash and prep to go into the delivery theatre. "Subsequent children usually come a lot faster than the first," the nurse advised as she tied Mark's protective gown at the back.

"I guess not," he said, feeling utterly wired on adrenalin.

There was the inevitable hand-squeezing and insult-flinging, but not nearly as much as the first time; not four hours passed between the waters breaking and the appearance into the world of tiny little Mabel. He was truly in awe at her perfect little form, the shock of wispy blonde candy floss hair as it began to dry, the set of lungs she exercised as she cried out for the first time. Tears flooded his eyes.

"Meet your daughter, Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy."

They laid the swaddled infant into her arms for a snuggling bonding moment before being taken to the room. When he emerged from maternity, he found Daniel and Billy sitting there, waiting for word. Mark's smile said enough about how things had gone, but to be clear, he said, "She's here, and she's perfect."

"Fantastic," Daniel said. "Your parents are on the way, and they've got Pam Jones and Una with them. Feel like I jut finished making calls, to be honest."

"Thanks," said Mark, unexpectedly exhausted. "Billy, my boy. Are you ready to meet your sister?"

Billy, just shy of two years old, nodded vehemently. "We can play together!" he said.

"She'll be a bit small for that, yet," Mark said, then reached down to pick him up. "Come on. Mummy and Mabel are waiting."

They entered the room to find Bridget looking exhausted and exhilarated. In her arms in was the baby. As Mark drew near, Billy seemed in awe. "She's so little," he whispered.

"You have to be very gentle, _very_ careful with her," Mark said, putting him down to sit on the edge of the bed. "You were that little once, you know."

Billy gasped; his brown eyes went wide. "No way!"

Mark could only laugh.

"Where does he get that stuff?" Bridget asked wearily as she smiled too.

"I must say, you're two for two on this child-production thing," said Daniel. "Well done."

"Thank you, Daniel," she said.

While Daniel kept an eye on Billy, Mark took his daughter into his arms for the first time. "Hello, my love," he said to her, his vision blurring with his tears of joy as he swept trembling fingers across her soft forehead. "My little princess."

"Can I touch her?" asked Billy; Mark glanced up to see Billy holding a careful forefinger up. "I'll be _very_ careful."

The way in which he imitated his father's speech caused them all to smile. "Come here, sweetheart," said Bridget, holding her arm out. "I'll hold you and we can hold her together."

Billy beamed, then crawled over to sit in the crook of her arm.

"She's more delicate than even the guinea pigs we saw at the pet shop," Bridget said as Mark set the baby down into place with her, with Billy. Gingerly Billy placed his fingers on the tiny hand.

"Wow," he said. "She's called Mabel?"

"Yes, she is," Mark said.

"Hi, Mabel," Billy said sweetly. As he did, Mabel took hold of Billy's finger; Billy's mouth formed a little O. "It's like she _knows_!"

As Mark looked upon his wife and children, he was all too aware of Daniel looking upon his family as a whole; Daniel looked wistful. It seemed he was about to speak when there was a tap on the door. Daniel looked away, towards the door, as the Darcys, Pam Jones, and Una Alconbury filed in.

Mark met his gaze as he looked away again, though, and he smiled and nodded. He hoped Daniel understood that all bygones were truly bygones; that he would always be the odd uncle in their family unit. By the smile that touched Daniel's lips, Mark realised that he truly did.

_The end._


End file.
